


In My Veins

by angelwriter



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: 6000 Years of Pining (Good Omens), 6000 Years of Slow Burn (Good Omens), Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Bottom Crowley (Good Omens), Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Ineffable Idiots (Good Omens), M/M, Mutual Pining, Oblivious Crowley (Good Omens), References to Shakespeare, Romantic Soulmates, Top Aziraphale (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-23
Updated: 2019-09-23
Packaged: 2020-10-26 23:03:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20750231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelwriter/pseuds/angelwriter
Summary: Crowley let out a wounded sound like he had been punched. "Angel," he whispered breathlessly.Aziraphale narrowed his eyes in determination. "I want to show you, Crowley. Prove it to you so you never doubt it. Only you."





	In My Veins

[ I realised that I actually cannot read porn without feelings. It just doesn't do anything for me. I like deep, intensity, the slow steady burn of into giving in to the emotions, the power of love and lust merging as one as they devote themselves to each other, blending bodies and minds and souls. Like a poem they write stories of their affection and adoration on their skins. THAT is what gets me! The ineffable praise of Aziraphale as he shows Crowley that he deserves being loved and is worthy of Aziraphale. Crowley who spoils and gives Aziraphale everything he is. 

I tried my best with this longer fic that I wrote. I hope it does what I have said above justice. I wanted to convey that in my writing. ] 

Crowley sat on his throne with his feet up on his desk. He put the wine bottle to his mouth tasting the bitterness of the alcohol on his tongue wishing it was someone else's lips. He had spent minilena craving the touch of another, the someone who he could not have. His bones were seeped in agony since creation, a deep sense of understanding that he would always suffer the separation from God and be unforgivable. He knew all too well he was damned. 

Yet since that bloody day he met the angel Aziraphale, there was this strange feeling of hope that rested inside of him. The angel was so full of light, but there was this devilish taintedness to his nature that made Aziraphale do what he thought was right without even considering any one else. After 6000 years of knowing this angel, he had finally come to realise that the angel saw hope inside of him and goodness. Although he pretended to dismiss any kind words about and to him, the little things Aziraphale did and said crept his way into his heart. It warmed him and made him feel a little less Demonic. 

It did not take long for Crowley to come to terms with the fact that he had love for Aziraphale. But what good was that anyhow? It was forbidden. Nothing went as planned and he knew the world was going to end a pile of mulch and goo and acid. What was the point? He could not get Aziraphale out from his under skin and the more he thought of the End of the World happening soon, the more he realised that he may not get to see Aziraphale anymore afterwards. His mouth went dry when he drank the last droplets from the bottle. He threw it against the wall closest to him and it shattered in little fragments onto the marble grey floor. 

He was jealous. That was the word used in modern society. Crowley preferred the term 'covet' . It held a Demonic charm to it, drenched in dark waves of want and trenches that held desire, an abyss seemingly endless. It was a fluid, almost liquid sensation that washed into every cell of his being - this ache burning in his veins for the angel named Aziraphale. 

"Thou shalt not covet. . ." 

He knew those words a long time ago. He had seem himself how Moses had been given the tablets of stone when She instructed the humans on how to lead a life pleasing to Her. He forced himself not to wonder if that also applied to him, was the commandment something that he should also abide by? Surely Angels had laws too, while Demons just had to do the opposite of that. It was an evil thing to do then, Crowley decided. It was exactly the sort of thing a serpent of Satan would adhere to. Spending 6000 years pining and wanting an angel. 

This conveting consumed him in every sense and he became jealous of everything around Aziraphale. The little tasty treats he ate, the oysters that slid perfectly down his throat, the delicious rich wine that tingled on his tongue, the wind that ruffled his garments in Eden, the turban on his head at Golgothia. The spines and indexes and old pages of the books he traced and lingered on, his favourite words that he read over and over again. He was even jealous of the tartan bowtie that he fingered when he was nervous, the tight golden ring on his pinky finger, the velvet waist coat that moulded over his beautiful soft body. 

Hell's Fury, he craved Aziraphale like anything. 

He wanted to be as close to him as he could. It was a terrible, tormenting feeling that made his bones rattle and cause the blood to freeze in his veins. He needed the warmth of summer that the angel emanated to soothe and thaw his heart, to burn himself up, singe a branding onto his skin with his fingers. That was the strange paradox wasn't it? It was supposed to be this comfortable, easy and all-encompassing bliss when you loved someone. But there was this double edged sword that foretold of pain, and knive-like slices in your chest, a grinding under your skin, a choking sensation that never went away. Drowning. No air. No escape. 

Now Aziraphale was close. As close as Crowley could have him. In his house. In the kitchen taking two glasses tumblers from his Rosewood cupboards. He poured the glasses full with a rich, red Cabonaire. Crowley knew it had a slight oak aftertaste. He swallowed hard wondering why he had agreed to let Aziraphale come to his apartment. It was just a little after ten in the evening, the starlight twinkling in the smoke-wash sky. The air crackled with a current that seemed to run over his bare arms, the reddish hairs rose up as if they, too, were entranced by the angel. 

"Cheers!" Crowley said as he took the glass, trying to dodge Aziraphale's thick fingers.

He tried to hide the press in his chest, the heavy weight suffocating him, avoid the way his body wanted to reach out to him, the head spin of his intoxicating scent. His mind unwillingly thought back to just after when Crowley had dropped him off after the bombing of the church where Crowley had saved him the Nazis. Aziraphale looked stricken with confusion and he coiled away from Crowley's touch, probably because of what he had said in the Bentley - "You go too fast for me." 

Crowley had resisted the urge to persuade Aziraphale to offer him a drink in his bookshop. He swallowed it all down and watched as the angel hurriedly exited his car and slammed the door almost forcefully and purposely closed. When the angel turned away he winced and wondered if he should perhaps go back to sleep. The only thing that stopped was that he worried the angel would need him again. 

A few days following the event where Crowley had saved Aziraphale's books, Crowley was walking around the area near the bookshop (just in case) and one night he was strolling through the lamp lit streets and turned the corner in Aziraphale's street to find a man leaving Aziraphale's bookshop. He stood in the shadows watching and trying to listen. The man had a black coat on and fake-ass red hair that was more an off orange than really red. Aziraphale stood in the doorframe bidding him goodnight. Aziraphale seemed impatient to shut him out and have him leave. He couldn't pick up Aziraphale's words, but then the guy response cause Crowley's ears to prick up. 

"We had a good time didnt, we? We loved each other once. We could do it again." 

"What we did wasn't love. We were distressed. It was a comfort. That's all." Aziraphale chided him. 

"Come on, Zira, you can't tell me you didn't feel that? When I held you, you said that I was exactly what you needed..." 

"That was something else! I meant someone else." 

"Someone else?" 

He groaned in frustration. "Look here, boy, I appreciate you making me feel better that night and all that you have done for me. But it was a mistake. I didn't do it because I wanted you. I was doing it because I wanted to forget." 

"Forget what?" 

"Forget picturing someone else's body, stop myself from giving into lust for him. You were someone I tried to use to satisfy my unwanted urges..." 

"And did I? Sastify you?" 

"No. No one can. No one but him." 

"I'm not enough?" 

"I am terribly sorry." 

With that Aziraphale closed the door. The encounter left Crowley numb and an emptiness settled into the vast holes in his heart. Aziraphale loved someone else. Of course he did! Why would he even think Aziraphale could love him? He was a demon. Unforgivable. Evil. Wrong for Aziraphale in every way. He slunk back into the darkness and left in his Bentley, not seeing Aziraphale until Armageddon ensued. 

"You like this bottle?" Crowley asked as he downed the glass in one go. 

Aziraphale, like always, savoured his drink. He swirled the liquid in his mouth, feeling it zing on his tongue. He moaned softly to himself. "Delicious, dear boy. Lovely." 

"Good." Crowley set the glass down on the counter. 

"So..." 

"So?" 

Aziraphale looked into Crowley's eyes that was regrettably not shielded with his glasses. Aziraphale took the glass away from his lips. His pouted his lips, his eyes lowered as he stared up and down Crowley's lithe body in a way Crowley had never seen before. His skin prickled as those ocean-trench eyes bored and spoke of things Crowley thought he was alone in feeling. 

"Could you show me your bedroom please? I have always wanted to know where you sleep." 

Crowley licked his lips. "Um. Yeah. Sure, angel." He cleared his throat and led the way into his bedroom. 

Down the hall was a room with dark curtains and a double bed that had black and red blankets and multiple pillows piled against the headboard. Aziraphale walked around the greyscale room looking out of place with his bright and warm beige colours. Crowley leaned against the wall with his arms folded. The angel seemed pleased by what he saw and he sat down at the end of the bed, his thighs sinking into the fluffy top blanket. The sight of the angel on his bed had him yearning in ways he had not felt before and it singed flames inside his veins. 

He patted the space next to him. "Come sit here with me, please." 

He ducked his head to hide his flushed cheeks. The proximity was getting to him, smouldering his skin and making him choke. He kept a small distance away, but Aziraphale turned on his side and bent his one thigh on the bed. His smile was shy and almost giddy. Crowley raised his brow. 

"And now angel?" 

"Just. I want to try something." 

"Alright. Got something to get off your chest?" 

"Oh yes." The way he said it made it sound rather suggestive and Crowley bit into his cheek, the air feeling thick. 

A deep grunttal groan of surprise escaped his lips as Aziraphale's mouth tasted him. God, it had been so long since he had allowed himself to imagine this exact moment. He could barely believe it was happening. He threaded his fingers on instinct through his luscious soft hair, tugging and scrapping his nails on his sculp. So soft. Fuck. Was this really real? He forced all the doubts away and melted into the tender kiss of this wondrous creature next to him. It was nothing like he had imagined and far better. He could lose himself in this and time could continue without him even removing himself from Aziraphale's lips. 

His head was swirling, dizzy, drunk on the scent on him. The flesh of his lip between his teeth and the gasp was nearly his undoing. His eyes almost brimmed with tears from the pure euphoric relief that emanated in his chest. He wanted this for so long, was starving for his skin, aching and shivering with desire. He felt set alight in the most powerful flame. He was so into him. In love. Fuck Hell's angels, he was so in love with him. He knew it was dangerous and he had to keep this quiet, a secret that Heaven and Hell could never find out about, but he would risk it. He had no more self-control. He needed more than anything. He loved him more than anyone could ever love.

For a moment he was reminded of him and Aziraphale at the Globe Theatre. There he had met Shakespeare, but you see Crowley and Will had been friends before that. They shared poetry and drinks where they spoke about pain, suffering, forbidden love and the agony of never being with your lover. William Shakespeare had said he would print Crowley's poem as his. There his poem would continue on and remain timeless, Aziraphale never knowing the truth. 

'Let me not to the marriage of true minds admit impediments. Love is not love which alters when alterations find.' 

That was his words. His favourite of all lines were the few last sentences: 

'Love is not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks.   
Within his bending sickle's compass come;   
Love alters not within his brief hours and weeks.  
But bears it out even to the edge of doom.   
If this be error upon me prove'd   
I never writ nor no man ever lov'd."

"Aziraphale," his voice rose in ecstacy. 

Aziraphale's moved his lips towards his neck, his hands yanking on his grey scarf. He sucked harsh bruises with a fever that made Crowley believe that maybe he had felt the same all these years. That he had been enduring all along. Aziraphale pushed Crowley back onto the bed, it creaking under the weight of the two of them with Aziraphale's body pushing him deep into the mattress. His plush body nestled into him. His bony, sharp edges were covered by Aziraphale's softness. It encased him in tremendous heat. His eyes shut tightly, he did not dare to move in case Aziraphale changed his mind. He was so fearful that after all this time, it would be ludicrous and painful go ruin it now. No words. Don't mess this up, Crowley told himself. He would let Aziraphale do what he liked to him. 

"Crowley, oh darling! I have dreamed about this." 

Aziraphale sucked and nibbled his lips like a treat, dragged his tongue along his prominent collarbones like licking the drips of ice cream that ran down the cone. Tremors ran down his limbs as Aziraphale began unbuttoned his waist coat and pulled up his shirt to roam his hands on Crowley's heated skin. The sensitive touch of his hands mapping out places where no one had ever touched before caused him to gasp and shudder embarrassingly. 

"You are so beautiful! So exquisite. Bless Her for making you!" 

"Ah, angel!" He could not stop himself from moaning as Aziraphale toyed with his pert nipple between his thumb and forefinger. 

"Hmm," Aziraphale hummed in pleasure and pushed Crowley's shirt all the way up to his neck so that he could suck on the nub. 

Crowley grinded his teeth together and bit back a whine. Aziraphale swirled his tongue in an expert way and when he graze his teeth...

"Satan Below! How are you doing this to me?" 

He could feel Aziraphale smirk and his tongue ran down the middle of his chest all the way to the happy trail towards his tight pants that was sporting a hard on. He opened his eyes to look at Aziraphale. His hair was amused from Crowley pulling at it and his lips were red and wet with saliva. His eyes were like waves that crashed his passion violently and directly into Crowley's heart. The thought of him loving him back had been a foreign concept that he never even considered it. Angels loved everything and everyone. He had to love all living creatures. It did not mean he had to love a demon, but if he did then it was just customary to his nature. 

Crowley unfortunately thought of that stranger that Aziraphale had no doubt fucked. Aziraphale had said he did not love him, but that did not mean he didnt enjoy it and this was when Crowley remembered that Aziraphale loved someone. Someone that was not him. He squirmed away from Aziraphale's touch. 

"Crowley? Did I do something wrong?" 

He sat up and climbed off of him. He looked startled and afraid and that made it worse for Crowley.

"No. Nothing you did. It's me." 

"You don't want me to...?" 

He sighed, his voice hoarse with emotions. "Christ, why is this so hard! I do. You have no fucking idea. Aziraphale it is all I have ever wanted. But...you don't   
...this...just..." 

"Just what?" He pressed, growing anxious. 

He failed his arms in the air. "You do not want me! This is just a thing...you know the world is going to end and you probably just wanted to see what would happen if you kissed me. This isn't...you don't want me the same as I do. You--" 

"Don't presume to tell me what I feel or not feel!" He snapped. "I love you just as much as you. You cannot know...I have never showed you, I have tried to hide it. And Lord knows how much I have wished you could see through my rejections! My dear boy, I have loved you since you saved my books and I have been in agony with how much I longed to have you. I tried to love other people, I even involved myself with a few mortals and also have visited a Discreet Gentleman's club in the 90s. All those people, sweaty vile bodies. I could not take part in any of it without thinking it was you. When I first bedded a stranger it was with you in mind. I learnt all I could about loving a body and pleasing someone, but I wanted it to be you! I only ever had intercourse once. And I could not handle it anymore. It was you. It was always you I wanted to be with you. You, my darling boy, Crowley! My Crowley!" 

Crowley let out a wounded sound like he had been punched. "Angel," he whispered breathlessly. 

Aziraphale narrowed his eyes in determination. "I want to show you, Crowley. Prove it to you so you never doubt it. Only you." 

He lunged for Crowley, straddling him. He pinned Crowley's hands above his head and devoured his mouth. His tongue dipped into his mouth and Aziraphale swallowed down all of Crowley's whines. His body was flush against him and Crowley groaned louder when he felt Aziraphale hard against his thigh. He pulled away, saliva still connecting their lips. 

"Aziraphale. Fuckk, you're ssssoo..." 

The angel smiled and grinded against him, their bulges lined up perfectly. They both gasped as electric shocks sparked them with pleasure. 

"So good. My boy, my darling! You feel so good." Aziraphale fisted his hands in Crowley's shirt and Crowley helped him peel it, Aziraphale working on his snake belt, pulling off his pants in the process. 

He got it down to his ankles before Aziraphale took off his shoes and socks. He slid his pants off completely and climbed back on top of him. He kissed Crowley's hipbones like he was something tasty and something to cherish, to savour. Crowley hissed. 

"Please, angel!" He had no idea what he was begging for he just didn't want Aziraphale to stop. 

Aziraphale continued Crowley's body. He kissed his thighs, his knee, his shin. Every part Aziraphale worshiped. Crowley could barely take it, feeling Aziraphale's love consumed him and his chest grew tight. 

"Beautiful," Aziraphale praised as he placed his lips fleetingly on top of Crowley's black underwear. 

His hips bucked into Aziraphale's mouth instinctively. "Yesss! I need you." 

He snapped his fingers, impatiently needing to taste Crowley right now. Crowley whined at the release of pressure on his strained cock. His hands went forward to grab a fistful of Aziraphale's curls as Aziraphale traced a long stripe along his member, swirling around the head before giving a satisfied moan of approval. 

"You taste so good, my boy." 

Crowley keened as Aziraphale took him fully into his mouth. The way Aziraphale took him so perfectly had his legs shaking. Damn it all to Hell, he was good at this. Crowley was a shuddering mess and Aziraphale had barely started. He bobbed his head, then deep throating as if his life depended on ripping Crowley into pieces with each suck and pull and swipe of his tongue. Aziraphale gagged when Crowley hit the back of his throat and Crowley gripped the sheets, letting out a cry. 

Crowley begged desperately, "Stop! I'm gonna...Ssshit. I want to feel you inside me. I don't want to finish yet." 

Aziraphale pulled back and then kissed him once in agreement. He waved his hand and miracled his clothes away in a flash, his own body eager and already ready for him. He sucked in a breath as Crowley saw Aziraphale's naked body for the first time. He trailed his sweaty hands over the planes of Aziraphale's belly and strong forearms. He kissed Aziraphale like he was starving and bit his lover's lip. Aziraphale moaned sending heat waves sinking down his legs. 

"I miracled myself wet for you, angel," Crowley spoke hotly against his neck. 

Aziraphale let a strange obscene sound and he braced himself to slip into Crowley. "Is this alright, love? Do you need me to stretch you out first?" 

Crowley thought it over. "Nah, angel. If it hurts I can just wish it away or make myself wider. But I want to feel you. I want to experience everything. The burn. The pleasure at having you this close to me. The weight and stretch of your dick inside of me. You opening me up, splitting me apart. I want you deep. So deep I tear and break. Hurt me, angel. Destroy me even. I am yours. I mean it." 

Aziraphale took himself in his hand, stroking himself off a few times before he slipped himself into Crowley's entrance. Bit by bit he inserted himself, sweat gathered on his forehead and his mouth opened wordless at the tightness that enveloped him. 

"Oh fuck!" Aziraphale groaned and Crowley laughed. 

"Angel? You're swearing?" 

"Only for you, Crowley. Ah! Lord, you feel amazing. So tight. And wet. Do I feel okay?" 

"You feel ssssoo great, angel." 

He pushed more of himself in until he was deep enough that his hips met with Crowley's stomach. Crowley flexed and tightened around him, his legs hooking around Aziraphale's waist. He could stay curled up in Crowley forever. He was so warm, his heart was bursting with love. Crowley clawed at his back from just the way Aziraphale was glowing white with adoration. For him. For Crowley! 

"Ngk, angel!" 

"Crowley," he gasped in reply, his hips drawing himself out and then in again slowly. 

Their bodies moved together perfectly, aligned in every possible way. The wetness increased inside of Crowley and Aziraphale took that as an indicator to go faster. He draw himself deeper as far as he could go. Their breaths mingled together. Shaky, hotly, eagerly. Their eyes locked, blue and gold. Aziraphale linked their hands together on the bed. Both of them were whispering words of encouragement to each other. 

"I love you. I love you. I love you." Crowley sucked a large red bruise into Aziraphale's shoulder. It was overtaking him. He could barely focus, his vision blurring and all he could see was two beings blending into one. 

"I love you!" Aziraphale shouted as he spilled into Crowley. 

Crowley finished soon after, shooting all over Aziraphale's chest. He spoke Aziraphale's name repeatedly as he came down, his thighs shaking and Aziraphale kissed him and kissed him. Thanking him. He was thanking him as if Aziraphale was not the one who had given Crowley life and love beyond measure. 

Aziraphale murmered into his neck,   
"After knowing what it is like to be loved completely by you....I cannot settle for anything less than everything. Everything you give me. No one else is matched like us. I love you, Crowley." 

Crowley felt his eyes water. "Angel. Angel. Angel. Come here." 

He pressed Aziraphale's head onto his chest and played with his hair, their breathing steadying and their eyes closed. Finally satisfied being in each other's veins.


End file.
